The Forgotten will be Found
by Kame720
Summary: Alice was a normal machanic until she meet mike when fixing the the animatroics.
1. Chapter 1

With Broom in hand, Alice gave it one last push as she finished her cleaning for the night. She leaned the wooden pole on one of the concrete walls that she stood next to, then made her way across her automotive shop, maneuvering around cars and their assortative parts that lay around. Next to the door entrance sat a sink that she made her way to, to wash her hands, then maybe go home. She scrubbed her hands in hot, soapy water, the day's grease and dirt swirling down the drain.  
She glanced up into the dusty mirror that sat in front of her to see her peculiar purple eyes sparking back, wisps of her short, white hair falling to break her view. She used her wrist to nudge them out of her face, a dark smudge revealing itself on her forehead. She wiped it off her porcelain-like skin, turned the faucet off, and turned around to make sure her garage was suitable for Monday.  
Being only 21, she had a good life financially. She fixed cars and took up some odd end jobs around town, repairing everything from tractors to ovens. Everyone came to her at one point or another, which made her quite known and liked throughout the town. People enjoyed the fact that she was different, especially compared to most girls her age, who wasted their time on one night stands and partying. Makeup didn't even connect her to her age group, seeing how she didn't even bother with such things.  
She pushed in the button that closed the garage and slipped out of her work overalls, hanging them on a hanger. She placed that on a hook, taking off the her key ring before she did so. She swung the door open and stepped out into the warm summer air. The sun was nearly below the horizon as she climbed into her pickup, driving over the gravel that surrounded Alice's shop.  
Alice got home at around 9, having left at 8:30 or so, tired and hungry from a long day. She threw her keys on the coffee table that sat in front of the couch, then went to her room to change into her pajamas. After a quick snack consisting of cheese and pickles, Alice retired to her bed, where she intended to stay the entire weekend.  
Monday morning came too fast, and begrudgingly, she had dragged herself out of bed and back into her truck, like her routine demanded of her. Before she got to her little garage, she stopped at Cup o' Mud for a coffee. Mondays did not treat her well. She pulled in behind the shop like always and unlocked the door, opening it to be greeted by the smell of oiled metal and tires. She pulled off her overalls from the hanger and slipped her high-topped converse through the pant leg of her work attire, then the other one. She fastened the clips and pulled on a pair of gloves, completing the stained outfit she was sporting. On her way to a VW Beetle that needed a new transmission, she grabbed a monkey wrench. Alice, unafraid of the grim that covered her floors, kneeled and laid on her back under the car, getting to work immediately.  
Finally satisfied with her job on the car, Alice stands up and, after carefully picking her way through the parts, made her way to the phone to inform the owner of its completion. Her stomach growled, making her look up at the clock to discover it was already one. "Wow, time flies when you're having fun," She said out loud with a dry laugh. Next to the phone sat a notebook filled with phone numbers and dates an item was submitted. Even though she worked with machinery all day, she didn't have a single computer to help keep these details. It may not be the wisest thing to continue doing, but oh well. She flipped the pages until she got to August's applications, then found the Bug's submitted date and number. She reached for the phone, but suddenly it started to ring. Alice picked it up and brought it to her ear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey this is kame720 hope you like the story so far I am atcceping ocs**

 **and I dont know how often I will update but I will update quicker if I get favs reviews extra.**

"We Fix What You Broke Repair Shop, this is Alice. How can I help you?" She asked loftily.

"Alice Mackay?" The voice sounded masculine, so she had to assume her client was a man.

"Yes, sir, that's me."

"I'm Samuel Light, manager at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." The name sparked memories from her childhood, birthday parties and celebrations being held at the pizzeria. "Our animatronics, Freddy in particular, haven't been working right. They haven't for a little while, but no one would come in because of some silly rumors about a curse."

Alice scoffed aloud. "There's no such thing as a curse. This town is too superstitious sometimes." There was a sigh on the other end.

"I know. We've been losing too much business due to this nonsense. No other mechanic would come in to even _look_ at the damned things; I'm kind of desperate calling you."

Alice nodded, even though Samuel couldn't see her, and said, "I'd love to come down and repair them. It's such a bummer they're broken. When should I be there?"

"Thursday, when we close. So around 9:30?"

"I'll be there. Thanks for the call." But there was a click where a response should have been. She put the phone down and continued in calling the car's owners. They said they'd be there in about an hour, leaving her to her work until then.

After the Bug was gone, Alice hopped into her truck and decided to Richie's hardware store for lunch and perhaps some answers to her questions regarding the rumors.

Richie had been Alice's best friend since middle school. He had been one of the more popular boys at the school, she the more lonely type. It wasn't that she was too quiet to befriend anyone, but rather that no one could keep up with her. At recess she could have been found inside, building cars from tape rolls and erasers. At lunch and during class, she was making blueprints for future reference, using terms far more advanced than her grade required of her. Richie was intrigued by this purple-eyed girl. One day, he had asked her what it was she was doing. "Making a flying car. The design for one anyway," she had responded, her pencil drawing crazy lines, barely keeping up with what her brain offered her.

"The gas tank shouldn't be on top of the car; that would cause the agility of the vehicle to lower. And instead of wings you should give it thrusters," he said after studying her sketch, surprising her.

She stopped to examine her work."I guess that makes more sense." Then she handed him a paper. "Make your own. We'll see whose flies better." And that was how their friendship began.

Alice parked in front of the store, 2 bags of Subway in her arms as she climbed out. Richie sat behind the counter, reading what appeared to be a Batman comic book. Alice pushed in the glass door with her back, the little bell above her ringing. She set lunch on the counter before him, his book suddenly gone as he looked at her. "I wasn't expecting you," he said.

"No one ever does," she replied with a laugh.

"Oh, thank you. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I smelled that," Richie said as he watched her pull his sandwich out.

"I knew you'd appreciate that." Richie tore away the paper savagely and took a big bite, sighing his satisfaction.

"You always know what to get." He took another bite.

A few minutes ticked by as they enjoyed their meal. "So, I got a new job."

Richie swallowed, then said, "Where this time?"

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The animatronics are acting funky. Apparently no one else will fix them." Richie put his sandwich down, wiping his hands on his pants.

"No shit, they're possessed. I wouldn't take that job for a million dollars. How much are they going to pay you, anyway?" Alice shrugged in response.


	3. Chapter 3

How much are they going to pay you, anyway?" Alice shrugged in response.

"Enough," She said simply. "What's the rumor about this place?" Richie straightened and smiled darkly.

"A few months ago, multiple families found hair in their food. Since the cook was bald, they had to blame the employee who served it, an older man of maybe 67? Anyway. They let him off with a warning, but they kept finding his curly blonde hair. Eventually, they just fired him because he wouldn't cut it.

"This employee was somewhat obsessed with his job, and was driven nearly mad. What he did was stalked the restaurant, watching the kids at play, waiting to get his revenge. One night, as the place is closing, a group of 4 kids leaves the pizzeria. The man picks them up in his van, murders them, and brings them back to Fazbear's in the dead of night. As a ploy to make sure no one else would eat or work there, he stuffed the bodies into the 4 main animatronics: Freddy, Chicka, Bonnie, and Foxy." Alice was paying close attention, her brows knitted at the words her friend spoke.

"The kids' corpses were found about 2 weeks later, when the 4 characters were leaking black ooze and smelling atrocious. Their movements had also gotten very constricted, and the man's plan in driving away the customers worked. Even after the bodies were removed, the animatronics didn't work properly. That's also when they started a night watch around Fazbear's, to prevent more... accidents like that in the future." Richie finished with a bite of his lunch.

"Wait, that doesn't explain the curse," Alice said, genuinely curious as to what could come of such a gruesome backstory.

He again put the sandwich down and said, "Well, as I said, the animatronics didn't work properly after the incident, so the owners put them into storage. When they opened the following day, they were back on the stage, working fine. The night guard said she hadn't seen anything, but she still quit soon after. That was when Mike Schmidt, the current night guard, stepped into position. He swears on his _life_ that the characters are possessed by the children who were stuffed into them. You should talk to him while you're there."

Alice finished off her meal and stood, making her way around his store. She came back with a few tools in her arms, unsure of what she'd need to repair the machines. "Oh, believe me Richie, I will talk to him and prove to everyone he's just a drug addicted night guard who sees things that aren't there," she stated, watching her friend scan the tools.

"I can't believe this doesn't freak you out even a little bit!" Richie marveled.

"I don't believe in ghosts," she retorted.

"Well, regardless of what you may believe, I bid you good luck. You'll need it." Alice rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. How much do I owe you?" She paid for the tools, getting a discount for being Richie's best friend, and left, wishing him a good day.

She drove back to the garage, but instead of getting out immediately, she sat in the leather seat, holding her new pair of pliers. Her old ones were nasty and kept sticking; a job like this was all the motivation she needed to finally get a new pair. She slid the cool metal underneath her fingertips, pondering the myth revolving around Freddy's.

She wasn't going to deny the story of the kids' death being scary, because it _did_ freak her out a little bit. She wasn't sure how she felt working on the very contraptions that imprisoned their corpses. Were they dead when they were stuffed in the metal endoskeletons? What if they were still alive?

She pushed the thoughts aside, unwilling to be frightened of such a ridiculous rumor.

That's all it was, a rumor... right?

She grabbed the bag and tools that sat in the passenger seat, getting out and entering her shop.

Word got out of her job at Freddy's, and in the days leading to Thursday she got many calls with concerned people begging her not to go. She would always reassure them that everything was okay, but no one would believe her. This job was becoming more than just a job; she was determined to prove to herself and the town of how preposterous their beliefs were.

Thursday night finally rolled around, and event blown out of proportions and imagined to be the night of Alice's death. She parked in front of the restaurant, the shades in the glass windows drawn to show nothing of the inside. With her tool bag in hand, she pushed the door in. "We're _closed!_ " An irritated voice shouted from the back.

"It's Alice, the mechanic," she replied. A man with a lazy, frayed comb over and a red face came out from what she remembered to be Pirate Cove.

"You're early," he said. He didn't give her a chance to say anything as he continued to say, "Never mind that. Follow me." Then he promptly turned around and walked away from her, going straight through the dining area where she stood next to the doors. He walked through west hall and into the official supply closet. She followed dutifully, trying not to breath the smell of sweat and pizza in too deeply.

The supply closet was a lot larger than a closet, appearing to be more of a smaller room. In it stood 4 slumped characters, sending chills down Alice's spine. "You take a look at those. We put them in here at night, so no one can see them from the front. Steal them, you know. I'm going home. Call if you need anything. There's also going to be a Night Watch here, so you're not alone." And once again he left, the door clicking shut after his departure.

 _Rude old man,_ she thought to herself. Then she turned her attention back to what she was here to fix. She set her toolbox down before them and approached them cautiously, slowly, all the ideas and myths about them resurfacing in her mind to remind her of the gruesome story they were involved in. Fear began to build in her chest, but she pushed it down, not letting it control her emotions. She felt like she was being watched as she moved behind the purple bunny, who she assumed to be Bonnie, a sense of uneasiness washing over her. She unfastened the fur, revealing a motor that sat close to the opening, rusted and covered in something she identified as grease.

She moved around Bonnie and grabbed her screwdriver from a flap in her bag, wanting to remove a few things so she could clean its parts. That's all it looked liked it needed, was a good cleaning. That would explain the blocky movements. For the time being, totally taking the machine apart for a good de-rusting was the first step. She moved back behind it, ready to stick her screwdriver in the animatronic. Instead she returned to it closed and refastened. Her frown deepened, her heart beating a little faster, but she continued to undo it again.

She pushed the end of her tool into a screw and began to twist, but a twitch in the joint connecting the arm and shoulder caught her eye. The light in the little room barely illuminated the robot, which gave her something to blame the 'twitch' on.


End file.
